Our life
In one of the many podcasts with Stephen Jenkinson, he posits this question (it’s not the precise words but you get the gist of what he’s saying):
Where do we come from? Where do we go? Is this [i.e. life] merely a temporary waystation, or is it the whole damn thing?
And that made me think this morning, what is life?
Breathing, sleeping, eating, working (for a living . . .) , procreating, drinking, running, loving, singing, speaking, building something, making something; the list is endless.
To my mind, that feels like the infill not the whole deal which, as much as I can tell or even write about, feels of a higher order. No, not God but something beyond the ken of our earth-bound understanding.
But of course, at least in my bailiwick, no one — not a single person — is prepared to or has opened up in this way or any (shall I call it) spiritual way to opine upon, as hackneyed as it sounds, the meaning of life.
Why is that?
Is that because we/they are afraid to talk about something that doesn’t evince of a clear and cogent answer? Or is it because no one in this me-first world is the slightest bit interested? Or is it because it’s easier to be distracted minute by minute (see The Last Messiah by Peter Zapffe) than it is to sit in silence and listen to the monologue that we seem to equate with me, I or our name?
In my case, I can’t escape the need both to think about Jenkinson’s question, and many more of a similar hue, including the idea that we need the world but the world, particularly in its current shape, doesn’t need us! Or to put it another way, perhaps there is more to Effilsm than I’d first understood. (I am happy to be labelled a misanthrope or to put it another way, I don’t think humans the Crown of Creation but a plague upon the earth.)
Anyhow, I'd love to hear what you think apropos of Jenkinson’s question or anything of a similar nature.
Take care.
Blessings, Julian
Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash